


Gentleman Boot Camp

by ricketybridge



Category: Jeeves & Wooster, Jeeves - P. G. Wodehouse
Genre: Gen, Identity Swap, Jealousy, Pre-Slash
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-18
Updated: 2018-12-18
Packaged: 2019-09-22 08:37:29
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,291
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17056460
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ricketybridge/pseuds/ricketybridge
Summary: Aunt Agatha threatens to strip Bertie's inheritance away unless he transforms himself into a proper gentleman under the tutelage of Lord Norby, a severe gentleman stuck in the Victorian Ages. Bertie, certain that he will fail at this task, swaps places with Jeeves: Jeeves presents himself at Lord Norby's pile as Mr. Bertram Wooster and Bertie serves as Jeeves's valet.Unfortunately, Jeeves performs a little too well, and an engagement looms on the horizon.





	Gentleman Boot Camp

I don’t know if it was when Aunt Agatha found a fishing rod in her bed or when I inadvertently set fire to her car that my honorable relation finally hit the limit with her devoted nephew, but a few days after I returned home from Brinkley Court, I received a startling missive from her. 

_You blithering idiot,_ the letter unpromisingly began. _Although I cannot, sadly, strip you of your illustrious name, of which you are utterly unworthy, I have finally managed to convince your uncle, George, to strip you of your inheritance._

“Good god!” I shouted. 

“Bad news, sir?” Jeeves said. 

“Abysmal,” I replied. “You had better fetch me a b.-and-s. on the double.”

“Yes, sir.”

I continued reading as Jeeves fetched the strength-enforcer. 

_However, as your uncle is more forgiving than I, he and I have decided to give you one last chance to redeem yourself. You are to report to Higglesdon Park in Herefordshire. An old friend of Lord Worplesdon, Lord Norby, has agreed to attempt to turn you into something resembling a proper gentleman. If he can’t do it, no one can. Should you fail to meet his approval, we shall consider you a lost cause and donate your inheritance to the Royal Society for the Rehabilitation of Retired Racing Greyhounds, who are far more respectable creatures than you._

“Greyhounds!” I exclaimed. Jeeves’s eyebrows moved a touch in concern and I downed the b.-and-s. in one gulp. 

_If, however, you progress to the extent that you secure even a grudging approval from him by the end of a week, we shall return your situation to its former state._

_Lady Worplesdon_

I collapsed onto the Chesterfield. “I’m finished,” I said, letting the letter flutter from my hand. As I stared off into the great darkness that was now my future, I was dimly aware that Jeeves had taken the letter up from the floor. 

“Would you mind very much if I read the letter, sir?”

“Of course not, Jeeves, please do, although I must warn you, it’s a corker.”

Jeeves read it through. “This is most distressing indeed, sir.”

I laughed at this egregious understatement. “Lord Norby hasn’t set foot outside his estate since Queen Victoria was alive. From the way Uncle Tom has spoken of him, his sense of propriety outmatches even your own. I don’t stand a chance.”

There was a sound not unlike a soft wave crashing politely onto a shore. It was Jeeves, coughing ever so slightly. 

I pounced at him. “My god, Jeeves, you have an idea.”

“I do, sir, but not a very good one, unfortunately.”

“Out with it, man! 

“It would not be my place to suggest—”

“Hang your place. This is no time for places. I am drowning in the soup as never before.” 

“Very well, sir. Since, as you say, Lord Norby has been so reclusive for so long, he has never seen you before, has he?”

“No, I shouldn’t think so.”

“Then he is likely to take any gentleman who introduces himself as Mr. Bertram Wooster to be, in fact, Mr. Bertram Wooster.”

“I suppose, but how does that help me?”

“Well, sir,” Jeeves said, clearing his throat, “I could claim to be you when we go to Higglesdon Park.”

I gawped at him, then slapped my hands together. “That’s it, Jeeves!” I said. “But wait. I’ve detected a small fly in your ointment.”

“Indeed, sir?”

“Yes, indeed. Aunt Agatha has, no doubt, written scathing details to Lord Norby about my assorted faults. Lord Norby will be expecting, well, someone like me, rather than a polished cove such as yourself.”

“Yes, sir. Thus, I shall at first behave in a manner resembling you, and gradually drop the charade as his good influence appears to have its intended effect.”

“Do you really think you can act like me? Whilst I have no doubts in your mental acuity, you are not known for your acting abilities.”

“Quite right, sir. I am sorry to have suggested it.”

He began shimmering off, but I called out to him before he dissolved into the air completely. “Wait! I’m not ruling it out altogether, old bean. I only thought I could do with a bit of a demonstration first.”

"A private demonstration might be rather awkward, sir. I'm afraid you shall have to trust that I will be able to convey the proper bearing.”

“Why the devil should it be awkward? I’m only asking you to act like me, and I’m already acting like myself this very minute.”

“Yes, sir, but as it would require conjuring up an artificial context, I should feel much as if I had been asked to perform a Shakespearean monologue before you.”

I scoffed. “Come on, Jeeves, I’m not that dramatic.”

“Not at all, sir, but nevertheless.”

“Very well, Jeeves,” I sighed. “I place myself at your mercy.”

“Thank you, sir.”

“I suppose I should hide myself indoors until you return?”

“I would prefer it if you came with me, sir, if you wouldn’t mind too terribly.”

“But how can I come with you if you’ll be, you know, me?”

Jeeves coughed discreetly. “If I may take the liberty of suggesting it, sir, I had thought you might go as my valet.”

“Ha! Your valet? I don’t know the first thing about valet-ing.”

“That’s quite all right, sir. I shall claim that you are a temporary valet from the agency and haven’t much experience. You needn’t do much actual work. I shall, of course, tend to my own wardrobe. It may, however, be necessary for you to carry my luggage and prepare a drink for me from time to time.”

“Jeeves, you shall have the finest drinks in Christendom.”

“Very good, sir,” and Jeeves vaporized into the ether to make the arrangements for our excursion.

___________________

We took the train up two days later, after Jeeves had requisitioned my very own livery. Midway through our journey, it was time for our costume change. I donned said livery in the lavatory and surveyed my transformation in the small looking glass. If I may say so, I looked like a gentleman wearing his valet's clothing. There was not a chance anyone would seriously believe I was a servant. I was determined to tell Jeeves that this would never work and we should call it off, but on the way back to my seat, someone asked me to fetch them a brandy. I nearly declared, 'Do you know which descendant from the Battle of Agincourt you are speaking to, sirrah?' until I realised that this meant the disguise was working smashingly.

When I returned to my seat, it was to an astonishing sight: Jeeves was wearing the fruitiest bowtie he allowed me to keep in my possession: a blue and emerald tartan. 

“Why, Jeeves!” I said. 

His brow furrowed in mock confusion. “Don’t you mean ‘Mr. Wooster’?” 

“Sorry, yes, of course. Mr. Wooster, may I say that your tie looks positively smashing?”

“I’d rather you didn’t,” Jeeves grumbled.

I smirked triumphantly. This entire rummy trip was worth it if it meant witnessing Jeeves wearing what he felt were the most egregious offenses in my wardrobe—which is to say, looking like the most fashionable man in the country.

We disembarked, with self carrying our two impossibly heavy suitcases. “I say, Jee— er, Mr. Wooster, what the devil did you pack in here?”

“I haven't the foggiest," he said. “You packed them, didn’t you?”

“Right. Of course,” I said. “Sir.”

By the time we found Lord Norby’s car and chauffeur, my arms were burning. The chauffeur, mercifully, took the bags from me and loaded them into the car himself. I then opened the back door of the car, but a wide-eyed look of warning from Jeeves, who was already sitting in the back seat, sent me to the front.

At the ancient estate of Higglesdon Park, all the maids and footmen were arrayed in formation at the entrance to receive us. It was a preposterous, outdated display. Even Aunt Agatha had stopped the practice years ago. 

Lord Norby, a/k/a Sir William Togg, stood at the top of the stairs, glowering menacingly. 

Jeeves alighted from the car and toddled off to Lord Norby. “What-ho, Togg!” he said.

I goggled at Jeeves. I daresay the mere thought of addressing a peer of the realm in such a familiar manner would have ordinarily caused him to faint. 

“You will address me properly, young man!” Togg snapped. 

Jeeves stalled. “Er,” he said, “what-ho, Lord Norby?”

I could have marveled over the change in Jeeves’s demeanor for nearly an hour, but the chauffeur interrupted my reverie with the luggage. Togg began lecturing Jeeves about the proper way of addressing a gentleman in the afternoon as I bunged the suitcases from the car to the house. They weighed down upon my hands, and just as I had nearly caught up with Jeeves, my limbs decided to go on strike. The suitcases got mixed up with my legs, and my face was sent sprawling across the gravel. 

Jeeves stepped towards me, a stricken look on his face, but a scrum of footmen broke their ranks and got to me first. One helped me to my feet while two others took the bags and carried them up the stairs as if they were filled with hydrogen rather than anvils.

Togg became even more glowery and turned inside in disgust. 

_______________

Once Jeeves and I were safely ensconced in the room assigned to him, he tended to the fresh new pockmarks the gravel had etched in my face. 

“I am terribly sorry, sir,” he said. “If I had known you would have had to carry the luggage so far, I would have packed much more lightly.”

“Think nothing of it, old thing. At least now I know where those broad shoulders of yours come from.”

Jeeves’s stuffed-frog look flickered slightly. “Thank you, sir.”

“But I say, Jeeves, I would have never addressed Togg the way you did. I should say you rather missed the mark when it came to embodying the y.m.”

“Sorry, sir. I felt it best to err on the side of over-exaggeration at first to ensure I would counteract my own reserved nature.”

“Well, rest assured you exceeded all expectations on that front.”

“Thank you, sir.”

For dinner, Jeeves insisted that I be present so as to observe the footmen and help when needed, explaining that I was a temporary replacement and needed more “breaking in.” 

Togg would have none of it. “It’s bad enough that I’ve got to break you in,” he said to Jeeves. “This isn’t a training school for valets.” 

I don’t know how Jeeves did it, but through the sheer force of flattery (e.g. “Your home is a most unique opportunity for Mason to see how it’s really done. They simply don’t teach proper service anymore.”), he got Togg to grudgingly let me stay in the dining room as long as I stayed as far away as possible from the soup. 

Jeeves sat across from Togg at an elegant table, the two men greatly outnumbered by footmen. I stood against the wall, trying to resemble a stuffed frog as much as possible.

“Well, Wooster,” Togg said. “Why aren’t you married?”

Jeeves choked on his soup, whilst I suffered a similar reaction sans soup. I daresay Jeeves had never before choked on anything in his life. The idea that he was sacrificing a lifetime of poise and decorum for my sake was, well, it brought a sort of pang to the Wooster heart.

“Er, well,” Jeeves said, wiping his mouth, “it’s not for lack of trying. I’ve been engaged upwards of a dozen times, but each time the bally beazel threw me over or some other cove who was h. over h. for her or—”

“Would you kindly speak English?” Togg snapped.

“I— Wasn’t I?” Jeeves said. 

“No,” Togg spat. “You were speaking silly drivel.”

For neither the first nor the last time, I goggled at Jeeves. For a moment there, I felt that I had been suddenly transported to the Drones listening to Pongo bang on about some filly. I scarcely believed that Jeeves knew all those words, though of course he must have, having heard me say them countless times.

“Sorry,” said Jeeves, “I only meant to say that in each case the beaz— er… lady in question broke off our engagement or I determined that she wasn’t well suited for me.”

Togg grumbled skeptically. “And what are your ambitions?”

Jeeves mulled over that for a moment, his face uncharacteristically twisted in thought. I nearly staggered back in shock at the sight. “I’ve been thinking of staying in New York for a spell,” he said.

“Going to New York is not an ambition! For god’s sake, man, you’re not married, don’t have an estate, and you aren’t employed. What on earth do you do with yourself all day?”

“Well, it depends,” Jeeves said. “Sometimes I write. I had an article published in my Aunt Dahlia’s magazine, _Milady’s Boudoir_ , recently. Have you heard of it?”

Togg glared at Jeeves in response. 

Jeeves continued. “Er, well, I also often visit Aunt Agatha and Aunt Dahlia and various friends at their piles around England. I frequent my club in London—”

“In a word, you are useless.”

“I say!” I blurted out. 

Togg’s eyes widened at me in shock. Jeeves looked over his shoulder at me with a similar expression, silently commanding me not to break that most holy rule of service: not to make one’s presence known when it was not wanted.

“Sorry, sir,” I mumbled. 

Togg gave me a final scorching look, but turned his attention back to Jeeves.

The rest of the dinner went on like that, with Togg lambasting every Wooster vice and virtue and Jeeves serving as his master’s whipping boy. 

Finally Jeeves was allowed to retire, with firm instructions to reflect on Togg’s lashings. Once we were behind closed doors, I let loose the apology. 

“Sorry about all that, old thing. As grateful as I am that you took the brunt of it, I’m sorry that you did.”

“Not at all, sir,” he said. “I’m only sorry that you heard it. It was utterly undeserved.”

“Thank you, Jeeves, but there’s no denying that I am far from a productive member of society.”

“What Lord Norby or even most of society considers productive need not be of any relevance to you, sir. You have the immense freedom to live your life the way you see fit—a state that most men spend their entire lives aspiring to.”

“I say, Jeeves, that’s some spiffing stuff. Is that Spinoza?”

“No, sir, but there are numerous philosophers who believe that the highest end of man is personal freedom. John Stuart Mill, for instance—”

“Jeeves, I believe I shall catch up on philosophy concerning the freedom of man another day.”

“Yes, sir.”

“I sense that it would require powers of concentration that I am not able to muster up at the mo.”

“Very good, sir.”

___________

I’m sure I need hardly tell you that Jeeves gradually but inexorably transformed under Togg’s tutelage into a very model of respectability. Each day, Togg had Jeeves read the newspaper and weighty tomes that I believe I had been assigned when I was at school at Oxford but had never actually read. Jeeves, of course, had already read them all—some twice—but over the course of the following week, he leafed through them to pass the time and, I daresay, out of genuine interest. 

Togg also made sure that Jeeves went riding every morning, since, of course, every gentleman must be an accomplished rider. Jeeves’s first outing was a disaster. From the window of his room, I watched him hop about with one foot in the stirrup as the groom barked directives at him.

“I say, Jeeves,” I said when he returned, looking a bit worse for wear. “That bit with the horse. Rather overdoing it, don’t you think? I know my way about the equine species, if I may say so myself.”

“I regret, sir, that what you witnessed was not an act. I have only ridden a horse twice in my life, and that was many years ago.”

“Well, well!” I said, the chest puffing a bit. “We can’t be good at everything—not even you, Jeeves.”

“Indeed, sir,” he said, with a tone that could dry the oceans.

Each night, Togg grilled Jeeves on what he had read that day. Jeeves’s answers were dismal at first but began to take on more and more of his natural brilliance. After they had retired to the drawing room, I was dispatched from time to time to refill their brandies, but I couldn’t quite master that shimmering business. As you know, Jeeves seems to glide about soundlessly as if on oiled skates, but my every footfall seemed to echo through the room. As I went to the sideboard and back, Togg kept looking up at me in irritation, as if I were tromping about deliberately to break his concentration.

It soon became clear that Jeeves had overshot the mark. 

One night, Togg declared: “Wooster, I believe you’re more intelligent than your aunt let on.”

Jeeves smiled modestly. “That’s most kind of you, sir. It is no doubt due solely to your good influence.”

“Perhaps,” Togg said, puffing on his pipe. An ominous glint came into his eye. “You know, I think I shall invite my niece to join us tomorrow.”

It was all I could do to stay upright on my pins. I knew very well what that meant: an engagement was imminent.

“She is fiercely intelligent for a woman,” Togg said. “I think you might find her quite charming,” he continued with a look that was far too bemused and knowing for my taste. “You ought to know,” he said, with a suddenly threatening tone, “that I prize her opinion very highly, and I shall take it into significant consideration when delivering my final assessment to Lady Worplesdon.”

“I understand, milord,” Jeeves said with the appropriate gravity.

Once Jeeves and I were in his room, I rounded on him. “Good heavens, Jeeves. Togg no doubt intends to foist this girl upon you in holy matrimony.”

“It does appear that way, sir,” he said. “However, if he has seen to fit to marry her to someone whom, mere days ago, he believed deserved little more than scorn, then he must have had great difficulty in finding her a match. It is likely that she is as resistant to marriage as you.”

“Not necessarily, Jeeves. She could be a positive harridan who is desperate to marry, yet has driven away all her suitors. But she’ll have in you a captive audience.”

“That is certainly possible, sir,” Jeeves admitted.

The next morning, I was obliged to stand at attention with the rest of the staff on the front steps to welcome Lady Margaret Hemsley. Although there was not a cloud in the sky, I am certain that thunder echoed somewhere in the distance as she descended from her car. She was well past marriageable age—possibly even older than 30. She looked as if she were born to be an aunt. Perhaps she even was one.

Togg greeted her warmly. It was the only time I’d ever seen his features teeter threateningly towards the brink of a smile. He then introduced Jeeves to her as Mr. Bertram Wooster. She handled her side of the introduction impeccably. I didn’t know it was possible to say hello to someone perfectly, but she did it. 

Later that afternoon, Jeeves had his real introduction to _La Belle Dame Sans Merci_.

She had wandered into the sitting room, where Jeeves was perusing _The Rise and Fall of the Roman Empire_. “So,” she said, “you’re the idiot my uncle has seen fit to marry me off to.”

Jeeves laughed sheepishly.

“You don’t seem like an idiot,” she said.

“Thank you. That is thanks entirely to your uncle.”

“Tosh,” she declared. “My uncle isn't a miracle worker. If you don’t appear to be an idiot, that’s because you never were to begin with. Yet he claims that you most certainly were.” Her eyes narrowed at him. “What sort of game are you playing at?”

Jeeves spluttered. “Now look here,” he said, “your uncle was extraordinarily kind to take me under his wing, and I would not be half the respectable gentleman you see before you now were it not for him.” I could not have said it better myself. 

“Oh, yes,” she said, her expression fading into a sort of disgust. “I can see it now.” She moved off and left the room.

That night, as they settled in for dinner, Togg announced: “I must apologise for the service tonight. One of the footmen has the night off.”

“Quite all right, uncle,” Maggie said. “‘If Nature is content with little, then so am I.’”

Jeeves looked at her in surprise, which she took for confusion. “Sorry,” she said, “I’m quoting an old philosopher. You haven’t heard of him.”

“I believe I have, as a matter of fact. Is it Spinoza?”

Maggie gaped at him. Togg, too, looked quite taken aback. “Why, yes, it is,” she said. “Are you familiar with him?” 

“Only because my valet is,” Jeeves said. “My usual valet, Jeeves, that is. He’s enlightened me with bits of Spinoza from time to time.”

“That is a most unusual service for a valet to provide,” Maggie said. 

“Well, he’s a rather unusual valet,” Jeeves said. “But if I may turn the topic of conversation back to Spinoza, which of his works would you recommend?”

_____________

“You’re in love with her, aren’t you, Jeeves?” I said, flumping onto his bed. My feet were aching from having stood on them all night.

“Not at all, sir. May I ask what makes you think I am?” Jeeves stood at his usual attention, and for one blissful moment it felt like we were back at home with the Wooster corpus sprawled across the sofa.

“I saw the way you looked at her when she started spouting off about Spinoza,” I said. “The two of you were plainly meant for each other.”

“If I may say so, sir, love, for me, entails a great deal more than a common knowledge of philosophy.”

“Does it? Like what?”

Jeeves coughed. “The usual things, sir. An amiable companionship, for instance.”

“I see. I suppose a corking profile doesn’t hurt either, does it?”

“No, sir.”

“I daresay I had no idea that you had enough experience with love to have formed a preference as to what it should entail.”

Jeeves coughed again. “I have, sir.”

I waited for him to start dishing out the goods, but he remained silent. “Well, I shan’t make you kiss and tell,” I said.

“Thank you, sir.”

“But if you’d like to ease your burden and regale me with your tales of love and loss, I am, of course, all ears.”

“That is very generous of you, sir.”

I was rather miffed that Jeeves didn’t take me up on my offer, particularly one he apparently found so generous, but of course confiding in me about such matters would have rather gone against his feudal spirit, which our current endeavour I’m sure had strained quite to its limits. 

The next morning, Jeeves went riding with Lady Margaret—she side-saddle, and he looking every bit the Victorian gentleman Togg was striving to fashion him into. I hoped Togg was watching, as it surely would have coaxed a tear from his ancient eye. 

Jeeves swung up onto his horse like a born horseman. The blighter really could learn anything faster than the crack of a whip. He looked up at the upstairs window of his room where I was watching and tipped his hat to me. I gave him a forlorn little wave, and he and Maggie trotted off across the park. 

When they returned, they were both flushed from exertion and laughing, having been regaling each other with jokes about Spinoza, no doubt.

That night, Togg had arranged for one final test of Jeeves’s newfound gentlemanliness: a small concert to which Togg had invited a few of his friends in the surrounding area. 

The thing was as dreadful as I expected: five doddering old men nodding off to a string quartet, whilst both Jeeves and Maggie were riveted. After it was over, J&M went into the garden, discussing the ditties with a sort of rapture. I followed them into the evening air, staying back a bit so as not to be noticed, and let me tell you, the moment was full of portent. Jeeves really should have known better than to wander out of doors on a moonlit night with a woman he didn’t want to be engaged to—even a woman who was about as romantic as an annoyed tiger.

Maggie took a seat in a bower, and Jeeves followed suit. “The melodies themselves are rather simple,” Jeeves said, “but the interweaving of the harmonies is astonishingly intricate.”

Maggie remained strangely silent.

“Margaret,” Jeeves said, “are you quite all right?”

“You know, I never expected to marry,” she said.

“Sorry?”

She repeated herself and added: “I’ve never met a man who was able to retain my interest for more than an hour.”

“I see.”

“But…” She looked down demurely, appearing to be in conflict with herself. The Battleaxe had been transformed before my very eyes into a blushing girl. Perhaps that’s what all women really were deep down inside—even aunts. “I find you very interesting indeed, Bertie. I’ve never met anyone quite like you. You _are_ intelligent, and it astonishes me that you’ve hidden such a luminous mind beneath a dimwitted exterior for most of your life. You must have fallen in with a very bad crowd to have found it necessary to do so.”

“Well, I—” Jeeves said.

“I feel quite fortunate to have seen a glimpse of the real you,” she continued, and she laid a hand atop his. “And… I would be honoured to marry you.”

“Margaret—”

She giggled suddenly. “Uncle Bill will be so happy. I believe he was very near giving up all hope that I would ever be married.”

“Margaret, we’ve known each other for only one day.”

“Well, when a woman is my age, she’s got to hold on to a good thing when she sees it. And I’ve found a very good thing indeed.”

And she pinned a smacker right on Jeeves’s lips. Jeeves went rigid, as if he’d been struck by lightning.

I decided it was time to take action. Though I trusted Jeeves implicitly, it appeared that he would welcome a helping hand. I entered the picture and coughed as much like an aged sheep upon a Swiss mountaintop as I could.

“Not now, Mason,” Margaret growled.

“Sorry, milady,” I said, trying to think of what Jeeves would say in these circumstances, “but Mr. Wooster’s presence has been requested in the drawing room.”

Jeeves stood. “Would you accompany me, Margaret?” he said, holding out his hand.

She brightened. “Of course.” He helped her to her feet, and they followed me back to the drawing room, her arm entwined in his.

Back in the drawing room, where Togg and his companions were partaking of brandy and cigars, Togg roped Maggie into conversation, allowing me the chance to slip out of the room with Jeeves. We went through the nearest door, which opened into the billiards room.

“Jeeves, what on earth are you doing?” I hissed.

“I am terribly sorry, sir. I had not expected Lady Margaret to be so untraditional in the ways of love.”

“Really, Jeeves, I’m astonished by you. After all the times I’ve been dunked in the soup, I would have thought you knew its signs and omens better than you know yourself by now.”

“Very true, sir. I suppose I had become overconfident.”

“Or perhaps you in fact wish to marry her?”

“Not at all, sir.”

“I don’t see why not. The two of you get on like the dickens.”

“That is largely feigned on my part, sir. There are aspects of her personality that do not mesh well with my own.”

“Are there? Like what?”

“As I’m sure you’ve observed, sir, she can be… quite forceful.”

“Ah. Do you mean you don’t have an amiable companionship with her?”

“Precisely, sir.”

“But am I going to have to buy you a wedding present soon nevertheless? If you disabuse her of the notion that the two of you are engaged, I imagine she will hardly be inclined to give you a glowing review to Togg.”

“Indeed, sir, but I believe I have detected one point on which she and her uncle may diverge, which should provide the solution to this dilemma.”

“I pray that you’re right, Jeeves,” I said, and we returned to the drawing room—separately, so as not to make it seem like Mr. Wooster had just been scheming with his valet in the billiards room.

When Jeeves came in, Maggie slipped her arm back into his. “Are you going to tell Uncle Bill our little announcement?” she said, but at that moment, Uncle Bill called out to Jeeves. 

“Wooster!” he cried. “I wonder if you might settle a dispute for us.” 

Togg’s estimable friends were at that moment engaged in vigourous debate. “We are discussing the recent troubles with Germany,” Togg explained. “Mifton here believes that we should declare war immediately, whilst Caldwell believes we should continue with appeasement. What are your thoughts on the matter?” He then arched a look at Jeeves that said ‘embarrass me at your peril.’

Togg’s friends let off from arguing amongst themselves and looked to Jeeves. So did Maggie. Jeeves coughed, only feigning self-consciousness, I’m sure. 

“I’m afraid I must agree with Mr. Mifton, milord,” he said.

A man—presumably Caldwell—scoffed. Maggie looked at Jeeves in surprise.

“And why is that?” Togg asked Jeeves. 

“Germany has been violating the Treaty of Versailles for years,” Jeeves answered, “and since we have shown that there are no consequences for doing so, it stands to reason that they will continue invading other countries indefinitely, which we cannot allow.”

“Hear, hear,” another man said.

Maggie interjected. “And so we should embroil ourselves in yet another war and kill off another ten million men?”

“I should hope it wouldn’t come to that,” Jeeves said, “but such things are, unfortunately, necessary at times.”

“And why should it be necessary? To prevent the slaughter of millions of men? You are proposing a cure that is just as bad, if not worse, than the disease.”

Jeeves coughed.

“Well?” Maggie said.

“It would be impolite of me to express my honest opinion on the matter.”

Maggie rolled her eyes. “Oh, do go on.”

“Well,” Jeeves said, “I understand that war may be distasteful to your feminine sensibilities, which is why it is best for men to decide these things.”

Maggie glared at Jeeves fiercely. “Caldwell agrees that war should be avoided, and he’s a man.”

“Oh!” Caldwell piped up. “Well, I wish to avoid it not because of the evils of war, but because I sympathise with Herr Hitler’s desire for Lebensraum.”

Maggie scoffed in irritation. “Well, there are plenty of men who agree with me, including our own Prime Minister.”

A few of the men chortled scornfully.

“To be sure,” Jeeves said, “the opinions of women do at times coincide with those of men, but the nature of the reasoning behind those opinions is, of course, wholly different. Particularly in the matter of war, women simply lack the warlike instincts necessary to reason about it properly.”

“I’ll show you warlike instincts,” she said, and she grabbed a glass of brandy from the gentleman next to her and threw its contents into Jeeves’s face.

“Margaret!” Togg exclaimed.

She turned her fury on her uncle. “And if you think I would get engaged to someone so prejudiced and closed-minded, you are sorely mistaken!” she said, and she marched out of the room. 

I grabbed a towel from the sideboard and hastened over to Jeeves. “Are you all right, Mr. Wooster?” I said.

“Fine, thank you, Mason,” he said, taking the towel from me and dabbing at his face.

Togg chuckled and slapped Jeeves on the back as Togg’s friends resumed their prattle. “Terribly sorry about that, my boy,” he said. “You could stand to work a bit more on your tact, but she did rather goad you into it, didn’t she?” he said.

“Indeed, milord.”

“I must say, Wooster, your aunt led me to believe that you were a lost cause, but you have made a remarkable improvement.”

“I am gratified to hear you say so.”

“I shall write to Lady Worplesdon at once and inform her that I find you fit for reentrance into society.”

“Thank you, milord, that is exceedingly generous of you.”

“There’s only one other thing…”

I missed the next bit, however, as he lowered his voice and drew Jeeves to the other side of the room.

___________

Jeeves and I wasted no time in making our escape. Though it had grown quite late, Jeeves had presciently packed our bags earlier in the day, so leaving was a matter of little more than Jeeves’s changing into a clean shirt, saying our _adieux_ to our host, and leaping into the car. 

“Jeeves,” I said once we were on the train, hurtling away from the House of Norby at 50 miles an hour, “you have truly gone above and beyond what any gentleman could reasonably expect from his valet. I wouldn’t be a gentleman at all any longer were it not for you. I will, of course, replace the shirt and jacket that suffered the brandy attack, and there shall be considerably more than usual in your pocketbook this week. But if there is something else you would like, only say the word. Perhaps an extra week off?”

“That would be quite welcome, sir, thank you.”

“Anything else?”

Jeeves ruminated over this. “There are currently no articles in your wardrobe I feel are necessary to do without.”

“Aren’t there? My word, I’ve fallen behind the times.”

“If I may request that you remain ‘behind the times’ for at least another month, sir, I would be most grateful.”

“Oh, very well.” This would be a hard sacrifice indeed, but Jeeves had earned it.

“Thank you, sir.”

“Jeeves,” I said, “what was it that Togg said to you after he agreed to put in a good word with Aunt Agatha? I couldn’t quite catch it.”

“Nothing important, sir.”

“Are you quite sure? Togg looked as if he were plotting the murder of his guests.”

Jeeves coughed. “He was only suggesting, sir, that I use a different agency should I need another temporary valet in the future.”

“What? I only dropped the luggage! That can’t have been so dreadful, can it?”

“I’m afraid Lord Norby’s standards are quite high, sir.”

I looked gloomily out the darkened window. “So I’m terrible not only at being a gentleman, but a valet as well.”

“If I may disagree with you, sir, you performed quite admirably for someone with no experience in service. I’ve observed many men who have done far worse.”

“Do you mean it, Jeeves?”

“Certainly, sir.”

Well, that was possibly the nicest thing Jeeves had ever said to me. I was positively floating for nearly the entire train ride back to London.

_______________

“You _cheated_ ,” a voice sneered over the ’phone. 

“What?” I said.

“This is Jeeves doing, isn’t it?” said Aunt A. “He hasn’t blackmailed Lord Norby, has he?”

“I’ll have you know that Jeeves didn’t even go with me. He simply would not reschedule his annual holiday to aid me in this daunting task, and I was forced to make do with a last-minute replacement from the agency who, I don’t mind telling you, was bally awful.”

Jeeves shot me a meaningful look. I waved him over and held the phone between us so he could hear her response.

She sighed in frustration. “Well, I don’t know how you did it, but since Lord Worplesdon is satisfied, he insists that I have George change the will back to what it was.”

“I say, that is good news!” Jeeves quickly scribbled a line on a slip of paper with a line that I presumed I was meant to say. “I am immensely grateful for your generosity, Aunt Agatha,” I recited.

Aunt A. harrumphed. “Perhaps Lord Norby did do some good after all.”

We continued on like that—Jeeves feeding me lines and I delivering them—until I felt as if I had been belted into a strait-jacket.

“You know, Jeeves,” I said after I’d got my esteemed relative off the phone, “I’m going to have to keep that up every time I see Aunt A. in person.”

“I should think so, sir.”

“Perhaps we should stay in New York for another spell.”

“That would appear to be wise, sir.”

“Jeeves?”

“Yes, sir?”

“Do you think we have an amiable companionship?”

“Certainly, sir.”

“Good. So do I.”

“May I ask why you are inquiring, sir?”

“Oh, just wondering.”

“I see. If I may take the liberty of saying so, sir, I also believe you have a rather striking profile. ‘Corking’, one might say.”

“Really, Jeeves?”

“Indeed, sir.”

“Why, thank you. Dashed white of you to say.”

“Will that be all, sir?”

“I— Well, no, not really.”

“Sir?”

“Is there… something you’re trying to tell me, Jeeves?”

“No, sir, I shouldn’t think so.”

“Oh. Well, then, yes, I suppose that will be all.”

“Very good, sir.”

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks to @cuddyclothes for beta-ing.


End file.
